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“Best friend to some, not so to others. Especially the guy that uses it after me, because the guy that was with me in there had gas, it's a long story but it all worked out for the better.”~ Oscar Wilde on Port-O-Potties

Lower class man proposing to his girlfriend after showing her his new house.

The mobile lavatory, or Port-O-Potty, is a real estate investment for the lower class, as well as a piece of "modern art deco" for art-hungry higher classes. Port-O-Potties exist in a variety of shapes and sizes, with most models being larger than a telephone booth but smaller than a teleportation chamber. In the United Kingdom, the plural Ports-O-Potty is often seen; this variant is seldom employed by the rest of the English-speaking world. A smaller, smellier variant of the mobile lavatory is the college dormitory. The average Port-O-Potty consists only of a bathroom and a basement, with its no-nonsense layout adressing both of our basic human needs. The bathroom is generally constructed of sucralose, a plastic polymer, and the "basement" is usually a hole in the floor of the Port-O-Potty.

Contents

Primitive versions of the modern mobile lavatory have existed since prehistory, when amoebae would release waste into the primordial ooze via reverse osmosis. Early man was known to erect vast, coliseum-size shrines where mass excretions transpired as a sacred offering to God. The first single-occupancy mobile lavatory was the coffin in which Catherine the Great was first entombed. Believed to be dead, she soiled herself four times before gravediggers were alerted to her screams. Because the coffin inexplicably had no bottom, the excrement did not collect in the coffin; moreover, gravediggers were baffled as to why Catherine neglected to thus exit her morbid confines as well.

Five years later, in Port of the Pot, Wales, a young entrepreneur named Stanley Port O' Potty developed the first modern prototype: an 8 x 3 x 3 duplex consisting of an upper level and a basement. Considered to be the Henry Ford of Real Estate, Port O’ Potty grew rich off his Model P Port-O-Potties; they were easy to mass-produce and relatively cheap to the public. As an incentive to the buyer, Port O' Potty's mobile lavatories came pre-furnished with a ceramic chair with a hole in the middle which served as a door to the basement.

By the dawn of the 20th Century, nearly 1 in 4 people worldwide lived in, on, or underneath a mobile lavatory. Landlords would arrange Port-O-Potties with exceptional sophistication, yielding clusters of lavatories stacked twenty high and a hundred wide, with the highest rates ostensibly going for the uppermost tenements. These arrangements rapidly became challenges for the greatest architects in the world. The Gateway Arch of St. Louis, Missouri was originally a large chain of Port-O-Potties before being turned into the Loch Ness Monster in 2008.

Frank Lloyd Wright, inventor of the modern aircraft, stunned the world by creating a life-size replica of the Statue of Liberty comprised exclusively of Port-O-Potties in 1927. What was especially impressive at the time was that the entire statue was precariously balanced atop the torch of Lady Liberty herself. Wealthy landowners and corporate executives offered top dollar to live in her uppermost turrets, and Wright became the wealthiest man to ever be crushed by a life-size replica of the Statue of Liberty when it fell off its perch in 1928. 5,000 residents were killed; the rest were already dead, as these particular Ports-O-Potty had no doors.

With the invention of the cubicle in 1935, the mobile lavatory fell out of favor in America, although it continues to be popular around the world and on Neptune. One of the reasons for the cubicle’s success is its pleasant, professional aroma. Another reason was a subsidy granted to the cubicle industry at the behest of cubicle lobbyists. Cubicle production came to a head in the early 1940s, when Port-O-Potty manufacturers were compelled to produce artillery for the U.S. Army. Further crippling the mobile lavatory industry was a general public aversion toward the “base,” “lowbrow” nature of the Port-O-Potty. A 1955 U.S. Census survey of 400,000 suburban residences believed that the presence of mobile lavatories, and to a lesser extent, live-in mailboxes, led to lowered property value and a perceived decline in neighborhood morals and ethics. Indeed, the introduction of Port-O-Potties into a neighborhood of houses lowered the property value of the houses by as much as 32%.

Presently, the mobile lavatory is a mainstay at large social gatherings, work sites for which the plumbing is not yet installed, and thrill-seekers at Niagara Falls.

The resonant frequency of the standard-issue mobile lavatory is 68 Hz (C#1). The first symphony written for an orchestra of mobile lavatories was written by Hector Berlioz in 1839 during an opium hallucination. Entitled Symphonie de les Poittes, the symphony calls for mobile lavatory specifications not existing at the time of its composition. Berlioz’s innovations yielded the now commonplace portaloo in Eb and the bass demijohn, which flushes an octave lower than written. Symphonie de les Poittes was also the first time a Port-o-Potty mute (i.e., its occupant) was employed in a symphonic context.

A later symphony by Anton Webern called for a standard symphony orchestra along with the audience to be confined among twelve standard-issue mobile lavatories. No one is allowed to flush their toilet a second time until the remaining eleven have been given a chance. To contribute to the effect of extreme dissonance, everyone in attendance is required to drink a bottle of Tabasco Sauce before performing.

The mobile lavatory was occasionally used for barbecuing articles of meat unsuitable for the ordinary backyard grill. Unfortunately, the extreme heat often melted the sucralose polymer that was the Port-O-Potty’s construct, and the meat was consequently poisoned. Even after this was revealed, cooking food in a Port-O-Potty remained popular, particularly in Japan, where extreme gourmands risked death to eat food thus prepared. Port-O-Potty chefs now require a license.

Port-O-Potty season peaks around Election Day; mobile lavatories frequently double as voting booths. The voter flushes his selection down the toilet, where it collects in the basement with the other ballots. Frequently, a voter will express her sentiments toward the candidates by using the Port-O-Potty in a more conventional manner; this has generally become a pet peeve of election personnel.

Over the years, a number of urban legends have arisen surrounding the Port-O-Potty. Some of these were spread as vicious rumors by cubicle lobbyists. Below are some of the more prevalent ones.

Contrary to myth, Nazis never converted Port-O-Potties into gas chambers. While there was some experimentation with various changes to the design among Hitler’s ranks, the alleged “mobile gas chambers” were in fact bidets.

Contrary to a popular Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood song, you can go down the drain. During the mobile lavatory’s heyday, 3,000 people and nine monkeys died each year from being flushed down the toilet.

It was claimed that Stanley Port O’ Potty built the first Port-O-Potty from the bones and cartilages of his slain mother, Bernice. Scholars now believe that O’ Potty didn’t do this until at least the second or third prototype.

Rumors arose in 1996 that a rare form of spider frequently made its home in Port-O-Potty seats. One bite from the spider could transmit AIDS. This is untrue; the dreaded “spider” is actually a type of tick, and its bite kills instantly.

The mobile toilet should not be used as a barbecue grill, no matter how much aluminum foil one insulates the interior with. The sucralose comprising the Port-O-Potty’s structure is highly flammable, especially in arid climates. See Alternate Uses, above.

In the early 20th century, Port-O-Potties were sighted on Mars. These Martian Toilets, as they came to be called, were believed to have been the remnants of an ancient Martian civilization. Later innovations in telescopy revealed that the Toilets were in fact bidets.